Sidelined

by Suzanne Baltsar

  With the pressure of the game tomorrow and Connor completely blowing me off, I wanted to eat my feelings. I mindlessly scratched my fingernails on the counter as the crust browned in the oven. It was hard enough to think about whether or not we were prepared for the spread by the team from Eden Prairie, but to have Connor giving me the silent treatment made everything worse.

  Other than speaking to me when absolutely necessary, he’d pretty much treated me like a ghost. He ignored me in the halls and stood on the opposite side of the room during lunch duty. I’d like to say I was totally unaffected by it, but I wasn’t.

  Connor had been my frenemy and then, for lack of a better word, he’d become my lover. And now he acted as if he was nothing. Yet even as I contemplated what he could possibly be thinking, I smiled at the fact that he’d hate the word lover.

  But there was no other way to describe him. I’d grown from hating him to loving him. He challenged me and lifted me up. He had ways to make me angry while being desperate to kiss him. I felt things for him that I never had for anyone else. And now that he wasn’t speaking to me, I wasn’t sure what to do.

  The pie smelled done, delicious and sweet, and I carefully pulled it out of the oven. With a fork in my hand, I was ready to drive right in—screw the plate—but I knew I’d burn my mouth, so I waited.

  If only I were that patient when it came to Connor. Instead of following my instincts, I’d followed my heart. In the heat of the moment weeks ago, I’d kissed him, and I hadn’t been able to stop since. But look where it’d gotten me.

  Staring longingly at the pie, I wondered how long it’d be before I could shove it down my gullet. I grabbed the pint of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and dished some into a bowl.

  It seemed as if I wasn’t getting any closer to Connor, not on an emotional level. He refused to let me in. Getting him to answer any questions was like pushing a weighted sled down the field. And I couldn’t continue to do all the hard work. I needed something in return. But he didn’t feel the same. After we’d got into it on Saturday, I thought he’d come after me. I thought he’d call, text, write me a note, anything to show me he had a heart deep down behind that stone face and stoic stance. But he hadn’t.

  And now I had a team to coach tomorrow with an offensive coordinator who wasn’t speaking to me.

  I didn’t want to wait any longer and scooped out a slice of pie, laying it next to the ice cream in the bowl. If I was going to have something that would hurt me, I wasn’t going to go in halfway. I went full-tilt.

  Gram’s apple pie à la mode made a delicious dinner. And bedtime snack. Sad to say, by the time I left for school the next morning, the pie dish was empty save for a few crumbs. But this time, Gram’s baked goods didn’t make me feel any better.

  My nerves got the best of me all day. Especially when I dropped some papers just outside of my fourth-period health class.

  “I got it.”

  Connor.

  The most words he’d spoken to me outside of practice. He sped up a couple of paces to bend down and pick up the copies of quizzes on the hazards of tobacco and alcohol. He looked them over before handing them to me. “Fun stuff.”

  Those two words hit me right between my ribs. I’d missed his voice.

  Romantic adult relationships should come with a warning—nobody talked about the hazards of those the way they did about smoking. What to do when you wanted to kick your coworker/friend-with-benefits/lover in the shin? Or how to keep from cursing them out? Or begging them to stay?

  “I hope you had a good week.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t know,” I said, trying to keep the anger in my tone, but I couldn’t hold it. Not when his tie hung slightly off-center. I reached out to adjust it, but dropped my hand before it made contact.

  He winced slightly and fixed the dark-blue tie so it lay flat against the pale-blue shirt that matched his eyes. “I was trying to give you space.”

  The quizzes crinkled in my hands. The knowledge that the period had started one minute ago didn’t stop me from raising my voice. “I don’t want space.”

  His attention drifted to the inside of the classroom, visible through the window of the closed door, then back to me. Guess he didn’t care about my students chatting in the background either.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, the last syllable lilting up in a question.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He nodded.

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “For . . . giving you space.”

  Again I heard the question mark at the end. I waved him away with my quizzes. “I have to get to my class. And you have to get better at this,” I said, gesturing between him and me. “I’m tired of this seesaw. You either want to be with me or you don’t. I have a lot at stake here, and I’m not willing to give it up for someone who doesn’t care about me the way I care about him.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, taking hold of my elbow when I tried to turn away from him. “I have put myself out there. I’ve tried. You’re the one who didn’t want to tell anyone. You’re the one who’s been making the rules for this.”

  He stared at me, unmoving, waiting for my reply, but I couldn’t argue. He was right, and I didn’t want to admit that I was partially responsible for the difficult nature of our relationship. I jerked the door open behind me; the echoing slam scared the students into silence, and twenty-eight pairs of eyes shot up to me.

  “Sorry I’m late. Get your pens out. Y’all got a quiz to take.”

  “Miss, can I—”

  I didn’t even look up, knowing it was Avi asking to go to the bathroom. “No. Sit down.”

  “But, Miss—”

  “No.” I finally looked at him and pointed to his desk. “Sit.”

  “You’re in a bad mood today.”

  I showed my teeth in a forced smile, and Avi scampered back to his seat.

  I spent the rest of the day attempting to get in a good headspace and prepare for the game, steeling my nerves. But as the team waited in the locker room for the game to start, it was uncharacteristically quiet. Knees bounced and knuckles cracked as I stood in front of them.

  “I know y’all are nervous,” I said. “But there is no reason to be. Look how far you’ve come this season. Look at what you accomplished.”

  Most of the players kept their heads down.

  “Nate’s stepped up as QB, turned our passing game around.” Nate smiled. “And Marcus has a team record for passes received.” I slapped Marcus’s shoulder pad, and a couple of the players clapped. “And Joel, where’s Joel?” Joel raised his hand in the corner. I walked over to him, yanking him up. “And Joel’s put on eight pounds of solid muscle. Show off those biceps.” Most of the team hooted and hollered as he raised his scrawny arms in a strongman pose.

  “We’ve got Noah Tremble, who’s moved up from JV to help us out big-time on the line. J. B. Donnerson, who’s scrambled to recover a whopping four fumbles on defense this season. And Jaylin, superstar Jaylin, leads us with highest average points per game and set a new school record for yards run.” I smiled at him. “He’s recently been offered a full ride to Humboldt State.”

  Jaylin’s face turned red, but the entire team stood up cheering.

  I raised my voice so they’d hear me above the noise. “I asked you to work hard, and you did. I asked you to be better, and you are. We made it to the playoffs for the first time in years. You’ve already got a winning record. We showed them all what underdogs could do. We’re the phoenix who rises up. Go out there and play with no fear. Leave it on the field, that’s all you can do.”

  The volume of the boys yelling drowned out my clapping. I nodded at Jaylin to take over. All of their hands went to the middle where he stood.

  “Douglass on three. One, two three.”

  “Douglass!”

  Chills raced up my spine as the team ran out of the doors toward the field. Dave patted my back as he jogged past me. Everyone was worked up, but I took
my time retying the laces on my lucky sneakers and zipping up my coat. I couldn’t let my emotions get the best of me. I needed to stay composed.

  “You all right?” I asked Sam Long, whom I caught up to as he walked around the side of the building. I guessed he had thrown up back there. Sam was a great tailback, but for some reason couldn’t keep it together before he got on the field. Once he was there though, he was home.

  Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put his helmet on. “I’m good, Coach.”

  I slapped his helmet once. “Go get ’em.”

  He ran out in front of me as we reached the gate in the chain-link fence. The Otters band began to play the fight song as the cheerleaders lined up, creating a tunnel for the players to run through. Connor stood beside me as we watched the players bounce up and down, hyping themselves up, and then run down the field, breaking the rows of blue and yellow streamers the cheerleaders held.

  “Ready?” Connor asked.

  “Always.”

  Without looking, we bumped the sides of our fists and took our places on the sideline.

  I put on my headset, testing the sound with Ken up in the booth before giving a nod to the captains as they took the field. Jaylin, Sam, and Robby Eck shook hands with the other captains and called the coin toss. We lost, and Eden Prairie decided to receive. Our special teams lined up, and Joel started us off with the great kick down the field.

  We held them off at 0–0 through halftime until they finally broke through with a long pass to score in the third quarter. Our defense had trouble getting a read of the field, and their spread started overtaking us. The quarterback had quite an arm.

  I had my headset off most of the game, ignoring Ken’s calm voice up in the booth. Instead I screamed directions to the players, not acting at all like the composed coach I was supposed to be. With the end of the fourth quarter approaching, we were still behind by one touchdown. I called a time-out, and before I even got any words out to the players, Connor was next to me.

  “Charlie, don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “You always go for the Hail Mary. Play it smart. We have plenty of time to try to get the ball back.”

  “I’m not punting. If they score again, there’ll be no time to overcome fourteen points.” He shook his head at me as I said, “We’re going for it. Call the play.” When he did nothing but frown at me, I turned my back to him to face Marcus. “We’re going deep. Waggle right. Got it?”

  Marcus nodded, and I made a point of looking at the linemen. “Clark needs time to get up the field—make that happen.” Then I held on to Nate’s jersey. “And you need to get that ball to him. Hands in, let’s go.”

  They all chanted and broke up to head back to the field, but Connor called Nate over. He said something to him with a small motion, giving advice. I assumed it was something about making sure he got the ball over the head of the safety. And I was thankful he wasn’t giving up.

  I closed my eyes as the ref’s whistle blew and felt Connor’s presence next to me. I opened my eyes and held my breath as Krajewski snapped the ball to Nate. Connor held the microphone of his headset in his hand, his knuckles white, as he threw another lollipop stick on the ground. I said a silent prayer when Marcus took off and the ball lifted into the air. It sailed into the end zone, where Marcus jumped up over the head of the safety, his fingertips grazing the ball in a slight bobble before catching it, and dropped his feet back down into the grass.

  Just outside of the lines.

  Out of bounds.

  No touchdown. The audible letdown gasp of the crowd echoed in my bones.

  I threw my headset to the ground. I’d just lost the game for us.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Charlie

  I didn’t have it in me to give a rousing speech after the game. We’d made it to the first round of the playoffs and lost. I ended up telling them it was okay to be disappointed in the outcome of the game, but they had no reason to be disappointed in themselves. They’d played well all season, and for that, they should be proud.

  Me, on the other hand—I wanted to lock myself away. I shook the hands of all the assistant coaches, and thanked them for their dedication, but turned down their offer of one last postgame beer at the Public. I was in no mood to go out.

  Two knocks sounded swiftly on the door before Connor came in and closed it behind him. “Hey.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “Can we talk?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “I can wait.”

  I ignored him.

  “Just for a few minutes . . . or I can give you a ride home.”

  I flicked my pen on the desk. “I don’t feel real chatty right about now.”

  “When are you going to feel like talking?”

  I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms before turning to look at him as casually as possible. “I suppose I should be on your schedule. Like always. But the hell with that. I don’t feel like talking, especially to you, and I don’t know when I will want to again.”

  Connor’s eyebrows raised. “What’s that supposed to mean, especially to me?”

  The frustration and regret hit me all at once. “It means I blew it. You told me not to pass, but I did. I should’ve played it safe and punted.”

  “That’s not why I’m here.” He hung his head. “I’m upset too.”

  “You’re here to rub salt in the wound then?”

  “No, I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

  “I thought after all this time together you’d get it.” I shook my head. “I don’t need to be coddled or soothed. You want to fix me because I’m a girl. But I’m also a coach, who just lost a big game. I want to sulk and curse in my tiny pea-size office, and I don’t need you to do that.” I stood up and motioned him toward the door.

  Connor didn’t move. “Why are you pushing me away right now?”

  “Me push you away? All you’ve done is push me away.” The fact that he wanted to have this discussion right now had me livid. My blood pulsed in my ears and my body went so hot I felt a tingle of sweat along my spine. “All week you’ve ignored me, and now you suddenly want me to talk. Crawl into the cab of your truck. No thanks. I’ve got my own car. I don’t need a ride. Or a chat. Or whatever else it is you want to do.”

  I shoved past him, pulling my coat and hat on as I walked out of the building, ignoring Connor calling after me. I held it together until I got home. Sonja was there in the living room, relaxing. Her cat jumped off her lap at the sight of me and sauntered into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile. “How’d it go? I’m sorry I couldn’t come, I would—”

  “We lost.”

  She sat up. “You lost?”

  My vision blurred with tears as I nodded, and she tugged me by the hand to sit down next to her. “Eden Prairie was good,” I said, wiping my cheek. “Really good. And we held them off for a while. Until the end.”

  She rubbed my back.

  “I wanted to win. Bad. I wanted to win for the team, but for me too.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted to prove I could do it.”

  “You can do it. You did do it. You turned that team around.”

  I sniffled, wiping at my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. “And then Connor.”

  “What about him?”

  “Ugh, everything.” I groaned. “Can I tell you somethin’?”

  “Of course.”

  I breathed deeply and straightened my spine, readying myself to say the words out loud. “We’ve been sleepin’ together.”

  “I know.”

  I jerked my head back. “You know?”

  “Yeah.” She laughed. “Are you surprised? Was it a secret? You didn’t hide it well.”

  I pressed my palm to my forehead. “Who else knows?”

  She raised one shoulder. “I don’t know, but maybe everyone? Piper, for sure. And if I know the boys like I think
I do, Blake and Bear have talked about it with Connor already.”

  Falling back onto the cushions, I didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or happy that Connor would have talked about me with his best friends.

  “And unless they’re totally obtuse, the other coaches must assume something is going on. I mean, you two set off fireworks together.” She handed me a box of tissues.

  “I hate him,” I said, hugging a pillow into my chest. “But I love him.”

  I couldn’t believe that I’d admitted that. Even more, I couldn’t believe that I loved him. I loved Connor, and everything was so screwed up that I didn’t know how to fix it.

  Sonja’s face lit up in a smile. “You love Connor?”

  I waved my head side to side. “A little bit, yeah.”

  She clapped and leaned over to grab her phone, but I stopped her. “What are you doing?”

  “Texting Piper. You think we’re going to talk about this without her?” She grinned as her fingers sped over the keyboard. For someone who had a boring social life, she was an excellent texter. “She says she’ll be over in twenty.” I stood up, intent on showering, when Sonja added, “She also says, quote, How dare she not prepare me? The place with the good cupcakes is closed. I hope she knows I can’t get carrot cake cupcakes at the grocery store. End quote.”

  I laughed. I didn’t know about the place with the good cupcakes, but I was glad to have a friend who did.

  Just as I finished my shower, I heard Piper downstairs. I slipped into sweats and a pair of reinforced Nike socks my dad had sent me for my birthday. Always practical.

  “I thought you said twenty minutes. Did you teleport here?”

  Piper whirled around. “You weasel.”

  “I’m not a weasel.” I pressed my hand to my heart.

  “I have a lead foot and I utilize talk-to-text. My keys were already in my hand by the time Sonja finished telling me about you. Now, get your snacks and fill me in already. I can’t believe you started without me.”